Acclimatization
by XxFearTheFluffxX
Summary: Balthier employs a rather unorthodox method to cure Penelo of her airsickness. Penelo, in turn, suspects ulterior motives - after all, what self-respecting pirate does something purely out of the goodness of his heart?
1. Chapter 1

-X-

The ship lurched as it slowly lifted into the air, and Penelo, strapped into the passenger seat across the aisle from Vaan, felt her stomach lurch with it.

This wasn't the first time she'd experienced such a feeling. When she'd boarded that imperial airship (the legendary _Shiva _no less!) with Larsa Solidor not so long ago, she'd felt her stomach roil like an untamed sea in much the same way it was now. And although at the time she'd been happy enough to put it down to the gravity of her situation, there could be no mistaking the true cause of her discomfort here. Surrounded by friends, or at the very least people who didn't didn't wish to cause her any immediate harm (and weren't the Princes of the nation responsible for invading her home, which despite his adamant objections to the contrary, was really what Larsa basically was), Penelo was forced to admit what she supposed she'd kind of known all along.

She was airsick. Completely, truly, _awfully_ airsick.

She could successfully take out a squadron of imperial soldiers in a battle spanning hours, but she couldn't handle five minutes on an airship... Go figure.

As the _Strahl_ eventually reached the appropriate altitude for take off, Penelo – cold dread squeezing her heart – turned as pale as Fran's hair. This was the worst part, if she recalled correctly; the part when the engines fired up and would launch them through the unresisting sky like a bullet fired from a gun. Her fingers dug welts into the fine leather of her armrests at the very thought.

She couldn't help but note, with some bitterness, that her fellow orphan didn't seem to be affected at all. In fact, he was positively lapping it up.

It was as she observed this that an even less appealing notion occurred. And although doing so made her feel worse (if that were possible) Penelo turned her head and stared determinedly out the window to her left, glaring fixedly at the roof of the Bhujerban Aerodrome and ignoring the knots twisting inside her abdomen.

She could absolutely _not_ let Vaan find out about her ailment. And have him lord it over her until the end of time? She'd sooner have her teeth removed.

Up front, the sky pirate who called himself Balthier flicked a few important-looking switches, casually trading a handful of technical terms Penelo had never heard before with his Viera companion, and laughing that smug, self-assured laugh at whatever it was she said in return.

Truth be told, Penelo didn't know quite what to make of Balthier. She was a good judge of character for the most part – after all, it had been _her_ who'd selected the tradesmen for the various orphans of Rabanastre to approach seeking work, and her choices had been met with considerable success so far. But with Balthier she found herself somewhat torn.

On the one hand, he had been nothing but kind and courteous to her since they'd met. More importantly, he'd been remarkably good to Vaan, going as far as to help him break out of Nalbina prison (as he'd promised he would) and then aiding him in her rescue – both things for which she was very grateful.

But on the flip-side of the coin, there was something about him that had her intuition screaming in alarm. Some unidentifiable quality that put her instantly on her guard around him.

If only she could put her finger on it.

There was no more time for a systematic analysis of Balthier's character, when at that moment the _Strahl_ suddenly shot forward without warning.

Penelo – who had been entirely unprepared for the movement, lost as she'd been in her private meanderings – swore she'd to lose the contents of her stomach there and then. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, hands flexing jerkily over the already abused upholstery of her chair, praying to any number of deities to _please_ not let her throw up all over the cockpit. Quite apart from the never-ending teasing she'd be subject to from her best friend, Penelo suspected Balthier would be less than thrilled at having his airship defiled in such a manner.

"Isn't this great, Penelo?" Vaan enthused as the airship sped through the skies and away from the floating city of Bhujerba. "We're finally in an airship! With _real _sky pirates!"

Had she the strength to do so – had Vaan, in fact, been paying her any real attention in the first place – Penelo might have pointed out that they'd both been on airships rather extensively (_too_ extensively) in the past few days. She might also have taken that moment, while Balthier and Fran were both too involved in safely piloting the Strahl away from the sky city to be listening, to warn her excitable and simple friend against the man who'd saved both their lives several times already.

But as it turned out, Penelo couldn't find the strength to tear her eyes away from the window, her stomach heaving and twisting with the ship's every tiny movement.

And Vaan, so fascinated with the flurry of activity at the front of the cockpit, didn't notice when his exclamations went unanswered.

-X-

**To be continued... Possibly.**


	2. Chapter 2

-X-

They'd been flying for a good few hours when Penelo's determination finally broke, and she was forced to admit that there was simply no avoiding it – she was going to have to vomit, be it there in the cockpit for all to see or somewhere more private. Certainly there was no contest in her mind as to which was the more appealing option; quite apart from the threat of Vaan's undying amusement, and their sky pirate host's disdain, Penelo had no desire to make a spectacle of herself in front of Ashe (for although she was a mere two years younger than the girl, and was every bit as capable if she did say so herself, Ashe _was_ her Princess... her Queen someday, if things went as well as everyone hoped).

Slowly, ever so slowly, Penelo unclipped her seat belt (which everyone else had already done almost immediately after take off – except Balthier and Fran, who'd been content to do without seat belts at all) and rose unsteadily to her feet. If anything, standing just made her feel all the more nauseated, but luckily everyone was too absorbed in their own activities to take much notice of the chalk-white orphan girl at that precise moment.

She made her way on legs of jelly to the front seats, where Fran and Balthier were answering a string of eager questions from Vaan on the dynamics of piloting an airship – with varying degrees of patience, it had to be said. Though she hadn't given him much thought beyond compulsory gratitude and instinctive caution, it was glaringly obvious that Balthier was not a natural-born teacher.

Her childhood friend barely glanced up when she approached the pilot and co-pilot chairs, a fact Penelo found both an irritation and a relief. Balthier, on the other hand, turned his attention to her readily, and she was struck by the clear notion that had she not interrupted when she did, the suave and sophisticated pirate might have done something drastic. That emphatic look of weary annoyance in his eyes was one she would recognise anywhere, for although Penelo loved Vaan like he were her own brother, she wouldn't deny that his was a presence that could grate on the sturdiest of nerves – especially when he got going on the topic of sky pirating, airships and everything in-between.

"Something I can help you with, sweetheart?" Balthier inquired politely, his smirk managing to affect both confidence (bordering on sheer arrogance) and gentlemanly charm. So smooth was that smile, so disarmingly glib, that she even forgot bristle at his use of the endearment 'sweetheart'.

"I was wondering..." Penelo trailed off momentarily, feigning interest in whatever it was that Fran was in the process of explaining to Vaan (something about 'glossair rings'?), in order to disguise the fresh wave of nausea that rolled over her. "Is there a bathroom on this ship?"

Something flashed in Balthier's green eyes at her words, some kind of understanding that could almost, perhaps, have passed for sympathy. But it was gone practically the second she registered it, leaving her to wonder whether she'd really seen anything at all.

"Yes, of course," he replied smoothly. "Head down the corridor, take your first left, second right, then forth left and it's the door at the end of that passage."

Penelo, who'd been too busy trying to quell her stomach to really pay much attention, nodded sharply before beating a speedy retreat – she was running out of time, and fast. Resolving to figure it out on her own if need be, rather than waste any more time, she stalked past the two rearmost seats (where Basch and Ashe were in heated discussion over the best strategy to tackle Raithwall's Tomb) with barely contained haste. After all, she reasoned, how big could the _Strahl_ really be?

The answer to that question, as luck would have it, was _very _big.

-X-

When the girl didn't return from the rest room after twelve and a half minutes (yes, he had in fact been counting, mainly to distract himself from Vaan's inane queries – and on that note, how could one boy _be_ so frustrating?), Balthier knew his earlier suspicions to be correct. It was, therefore, with no great regret on his part that he rose from his seat and excused himself, ignoring the knowing look Fran directed his way and _being_ ignored by their young guest – the boy had picked up pretty quickly that Balthier was not an ideal subject to pose his questions to, and had instead become more interested in interrogating Fran, who, of the two of them, had the more natural talent for teaching.

Relieved to be free of Vaan's incessant talking, Balthier made his way with swift efficiency to the bathroom he'd directed Penelo to.

It took him less than a minute to reach the specified door, and to his surprise he found that the girl was nowhere in the vicinity. He knocked on the door several times, eventually trying the handle only to discover the lock wasn't engaged and Penelo wasn't inside – and hadn't been at any point in the recent past judging by the lack of any telling evidence to the contrary.

_Odd..._

Closing the door behind him, Balthier left to look for her, figuring that at least he now had a legitimate excuse for not returning to endure Vaan's slow and painful dissolution of all his patience.

-X-

**Decided I might as well finish what I started. I don't like doing things by halves. **


	3. Chapter 3

-X-

Penelo was leaning against a wall looking very green when Balthier eventually found her.

On any other day she might have been mortified at being found doubled over and breathing heavily, like a Seeq left too long in the sun, but at that precise moment she found it difficult to summon much emotion at all. The most she could bring herself to feel was mild irritation at the fact that it was _he_ who found her and not Vaan. Because honestly, that tearaway, sky-pirate wannabe was _supposed_ to be her best friend!

"My, my," Balthier commented softly, almost absently, as he approached. He crouched down to her level and examined her pale, sweaty face through the flyaway wisps of bright blonde hair that had escaped her twin braids. "It would seem you haven't taken to flying with as much ease as your zealous friend, my dear."

Penelo, who in the first instance was already grouchy from her incompatibility with flight, and in the second was becoming increasingly embarrassed by his intent scrutiny of her ashen features, couldn't help the snippy retort that whipped from her tongue.

"State the – uuurgh – obvious, why don't you?"

She immediately covered her mouth, partly to prevent the prompt reappearance of her stomach contents, and partly in absolute horror of her uncharacteristic behaviour. There was no denying it – what she'd just said was _unbelievably_ rude and ungrateful, especially considering all the trouble Balthier had gone to helping her. True, it was mostly self-interest and coinciding goals that had spurred him to assist, but he _had_ assisted regardless.

And besides, Penelo had been raised to be polite.

But to her surprise, instead of being mortally offended and throwing her off the ship for her impudence, Balthier just laughed; a genuinely amused rumble from his chest, the tenor of which suggested he found her sharp sarcasm refreshing rather than insulting.

"Ah, so you _do_ have some fire in you after all," Balthier grinned. "Good! I was rather beginning to think you too mild for this latest venture."

Encouraged by his obvious approval of her defiance, Penelo's guilt began to ebb. Her cheeks, already ruddy from the effort of suppressing her gag reflex, became just a little brighter at the almost-compliment, and though she was no less wary of him, she felt she was at least a little less intimidated by him.

After a few moments, in which a complete but not entirely uncomfortable silence reigned, Balthier suddenly offered his arm in a chivalrous manner Penelo had only ever heard about in fairytales (and scarcely at that – old Dalan was an excellent story teller, but his knowledge of classic romantic tales was thin at best). Surprised, all she could do was stare dumbly at him as he raised an arched eyebrow in expectation.

"Come, my dear – I don't bite." He smirked at her and winked conspiratorially, making her flush all the harder. "I think we ought to get you to more suitable facilities. Vomit is such an unpleasant substance to clean, wouldn't you agree?"

At this Penelo nodded once, and accepted his arm with a shy awkwardness she was wholly unaccustomed to – after two years living in Lowtown with the rest of Dalmasca's broken and desperate, embarrassment wasn't something that came easily to her anymore. But then she supposed Balthier was a different kettle of fish to the men she'd known back home altogether. He was no common gutter rat with grasping hands, trying to cop a feel as she walked by. He wasn't a pickpocketing rogue either, nor a wizened grandfather figure.

He was a _gentleman_.

It took them quite a while to reach the bathroom (or at least that's how it felt to Penelo, who became increasingly grateful for Balthier's arm to steady her as the world swirled around her), and when they did Balthier released her arm but made no move to leave. Despite needing to throw up so badly it was almost more than she could bear, Penelo turned to him with horror in her eyes and pleading in her voice.

"You're not… going to _stay, _are you?" she croaked, cheeks burning with humiliation at the very thought. Penelo might think quite ill of him in general – he was arrogant, self-absorbed and she didn't doubt he'd sell them all down the river at the first opportunity, if it took his fancy to do such – but regardless, he was still undeniably handsome, and for some reason she couldn't put her finger on, the thought of him hearing her throw up filled her with alarm of the keenest sort.

"Of course I am," he replied calmly, as if it were the natural thing.

Penelo waited, expecting him to admit he was joking and take his leave; or else take the hint and at the very least move down the corridor a bit. When he didn't, she felt her heart stutter in pre-emptive mortification.

"You _can't_!" she cried.

Balthier raised an eyebrow.

"And why not?"

"B-because! I'm going to..." She trailed off as some vomit finally forced it's way into her mouth. She swallowed quickly, paling as she realised she had very little time left before she'd no longer have the strength to stop it. "It's undignified!"

Balthier laughed again. "My girl, I may act the part, but I assure you I have few qualms where dignity is concerned – either my own or that of another."

Unable to hold herself together any longer, Penelo didn't bother with any further arguments and instead threw herself into the small bathroom, locking the door firmly behind her and letting her stomach heave itself dry into the toilet bowl.

-X-


	4. Chapter 4

-X-

It was almost half an hour before Penelo emerged from the bathroom, and when she did it was with a red face. She didn't meet the sky pirate's eyes as she shuffled through the door, and was almost too quiet to be heard when she muttered an apology about him having heard that.

"I hope you don't mind... I used some of the mouthwash I found in there," she mumbled, rubbing her left upper arm sullenly.

"Not at all." Balthier bowed courteously. It was small, barely deeper than a polite nod really, but it was a bow nonetheless.

Silence.

Unsatisfied, Penelo tried again to apologise. She felt like she could never apologise enough for his having overheard her less flattering moments... Even if she _had_ all but demanded for him to leave.

"I really am sorry, Balthier. I... that _couldn't _have been pleasant to listen to. I'm sorry-,"

"Now sweetheart, what kind of leading man would I be if I were to abandon a lady in her hour of need, hm?" He graced her with a roguish grin. "And believe me when I say, darling, that I have heard things far worse in my time."

Heartened, if only a little, Penelo raised her head and smiled.

Balthier certainly had a way about him. The face of a prince with a tongue of pure silver to match... If anything those qualities, the ones she found most intriguing, made her trust him all the less. She supposed he was a conundrum, after a fashion, but not the sort that anyone really dared to solve, lest they reveal something darker than they were prepared to deal with. He was the type of man that most girls fantasized about, but only clever girls knew to stay away from.

Penelo for one prided herself on being clever.

As the two stood in companionable quiet – Penelo smiling and noting to herself (with some small measure of surprise) that in spite of her misgivings concerning his integrity, she was beginning to feel a warm, heartfelt kind of fondness for him – the Strahl suddenly shuddered, juddering up and down as though a humongous child were shaking the airship like a toy.

Her response to such an unexpected and unpleasant commotion was instant.

Penelo's face, which had regained a considerable amount of it's colour with Balthier's help, quickly became the same general shade as rotten Malboro skin. Her knees trembled, becoming dangerously unstable and too weak to support the rest of her body, while her empty stomach clenched reflexively. Leaning heavily on the wall, she slid into a curled up sitting position on the floor, doing her best to ignore the sympathy (if it could be called that) and, worse, the amusement in Balthier's sharp green eyes.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and let her forehead rest on top, her laboured breathing the only sound in the enclosed space apart from the rattling of the Strahl. The tremors stopped almost as quickly as they'd started, but Penelo couldn't bring herself to attempt getting up. Instead she remained on the floor, breathing deeply through her mouth and imagining the stupid grin on Vaan's face when he found out that she – superior to him in any number of other subjects – was a poor flyer.

Penelo barely noticed when Balthier sat down next to her, and she registered only dimly his rough hand on her shoulder. She took comfort from the gesture, and turned her head to glance at him gratefully.

"Thanks," she wheezed, chest burning from the hyperventilation. "Thank you, Balthier."

"It's my pleasure," Balthier replied. His hand moved absently over her back, rubbing her tense muscles in soothing circles until they eventually began to relax.

How long they sat together like that, neither knew. But when she felt well enough to talk without throwing up again – or at the very least without sounding like an idiot – Penelo decided she may as well chance her luck.

"Balthier... I was wondering. Could you... I mean _would_ you... would you please not mention this to Vaan?" she asked tremulously, doing her best to disguise the pleading note in her tone and (judging by the entertained expression he wore) failing.

"Might I ask why?"

Penelo frowned at her hands, which were chalky but steady – though whether this was because her nerves had truly settled or because they _couldn't _shake, cupped over her knees as they were, she couldn't guess.

She had a feeling he already knew why. After all, he'd proven himself to be a sly customer on more than one occasion thus far, and she found it hard to believe that someone with his obvious intellect hadn't already gotten the measure of she and Vaan's relationship and respective characters.

However, if she was to have any hope of convincing him to keep his peace, she supposed she would have to play along.

"Well, he'll just make fun of me."

"Forgive me for being so blunt, but you don't strike me as the type to be unsettled by a little teasing," he commented with an air of casual indifference.

Penelo looked him directly in the eye for the first time since meeting him in the hallway, and caught the glimmer of skepticism in their depths. It was offset with a mild spark of mocking too, but with the particular kindness he'd shown her throughout her plight she found it impossible to voice her indignation at his presumptuous reflection.

"I'm not really. Not normally," she agreed. "But with Vaan it's... a little different. We've known each other since we were little kids. We've always been close. And after the war, when we both lost everything else, we still had each other. We're like brother and sister I guess – and like a real brother and sister, we have a kind of rivalry going. He makes fun of me for stuff and I do the same for him." Penelo sighed, wondering if a man like Balthier could possibly understand. "Let's just say... I don't want to give him ammunition."

"I see."

Penelo doubted it. Nevertheless, she carried on. "If he found out I got airsick, I'd never hear the end of it. I was the one who insisted on coming, remember? Besides, Vaan's got a big enough ego as it is; he'd probably explode if I let his head get any bigger."

"Ah, now that I _can_ understand," Balthier grinned. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Your secret is safe with me."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." He waved off her gratitude with good grace, and rose to his feet in a movement of practised fluidity. "And now, my dear, I have an offer to make you. It just so happens that I know an effective cure for airsickness – would you like me to share it with you?"

Penelo eyed him suspiciously. She wasn't green enough that she didn't know what kind of 'offers' men like Balthier made to young girls like her. Part of her supposed it was unfair to judge him so harshly, especially as she hardly knew him... But then again, a larger part argued, she didn't _need_ to know him to know he was probably a womaniser in the first degree. If he even _hinted _at such a proposition, Penelo vowed she'd zap him within an inch of his life with her newly-learned Thundara spell.

"My dear Penelo," Balthier sighed, mock indignation in his voice as he caught her guarded expression – she might have believed it true indignation if not for the mischievous glint in his eyes. "You wound me; do you truly hold me in so low a regard as to suspect villainy at a time like this?"

Penelo laughed, and was gratified with a low bow from her companion – just like the kind an actor does for his audience after giving the performance of a lifetime. Balthier was a piece of work alright, and Penelo – despite herself – found herself growing more and more taken with him.

"I'm sorry Balthier," she chuckled, accepting his proffered hand and allowing him to help her up. "I like you well enough, but I guess I just don't trust you that much."

He raised an eyebrow, a smooth smirk twisting his lips. It was apparent that he hadn't expected so frank a statement from her; but once again, rather than being insulted, he seemed thrilled at her display of impertinence.

Penelo mirrored his expression, taking her hand back from his grasp when she was safely on her feet and crossing her arms over her midriff. She'd only been so blunt out of curiosity – she'd wanted to see how he'd react. And if she was honest with herself, she guessed she'd also wanted him to know that she wasn't the meek little thing he presumed she was. Penelo was as strong, independent and defiant as Ashe in her way, and for some reason she'd wanted him to know it.

"I see someone's feeling better," Balthier noted ironically.

"You're not offended?" Penelo quizzed, though she could see he wasn't.

"Not at all. On the contrary, I think you've made a wise decision."

She blinked. The desire to inquire further was strong, but not more so than her desire to avoid getting mixed up in the sky pirate's more unsavoury side. She let the topic drop.

"In any case, I assure you my intentions are purely honourable in this instance. If you want me to help rid you of your airsickness, I'd be only too happy to oblige."

The ship rocked again, briefly, and Penelo paled. She nodded to him once, sharply, and followed him down the corridor. After all, what was to think about? If there was some way to solve her dilemma without Vaan being any the wiser, she would take it in a heartbeat.

-X-


	5. Chapter 5

-X-

While they were walking Balthier started talking again, in tones of studied nonchalance.

"You know, my dear, I suffered with airsickness too back when I was a boy," he said conversationally, rounding the corner and onto the main corridor. On their right they could hear the buzz of chatter from the cockpit– it would appear their companions were still busy enough that their prolonged absence had remained unnoticed. Balthier steered them left, away from the din, and before long the voices had faded into silence once more.

"You did?" Penelo asked, surprised. "Then what made you decide to become a sky pirate?"

"I did," he confirmed. "I used to get so ill on board an airship that, more often than not, I'd end up drugged in my cabin for the entire journey. My father thought it easier to keep me asleep and out of the way than have me make a mess of the place while awake."

She waited politely for him to answer her second question, but no such response presented itself. After a few minutes she belatedly realised that he was deliberately ignoring that part of her query, and without hesitation she swiftly changed tack. Penelo of all people could understand a person's reluctance to talk about the past – she herself had things she'd rather not relive, so who was she to pry?

"I guess being on an airship all the time has cured you of your sickness, huh?"

"No, I'm afraid you're quite wrong," he replied, leading her through a closed door into what looked like someone's private quarters.

Penelo stood by the open doorway, instantly wary as she caught sight of the large king-size bed against the far wall in the light from the hall. Balthier flipped on the light switch inside the room, oblivious to her consternation, and she studied the chamber with a cautious eye. It was a fairly sparse cabin, with little to mark it as belonging to anyone in particular. Aside from the large bed, made up with dark, forest green sheets (silk, judging by the lustrous sheen of them), there was a simple chest of drawers and wardrobe lined up in one corner – sandalwood, in all likelihood – and an empty writing desk and chair in another. The room itself was on the larger side, and it's lack of furniture made it seem all the bigger. The bed, which was close to but not flush against the wall, dominated the left half of the room, while the right was more spacious than Penelo's whole room back in Lowtown.

"Balthier?" she breathed anxiously. Had she been wrong to trust him even a little? Had she willingly walked into some kind of trap?

"Hm?"

The man in question looked over his shoulder at her from his wardrobe, where he was rummaging about for who-knew-what. Seeing her rising panic, he clicked his tongue and turned back to his work.

"Relax. Didn't I tell you already? This is an act of charity, sweetheart – I have no lascivious intentions at the moment." His amusement was as obvious as if he'd laughed at her outright – but even so, Penelo didn't miss the deliberately mischievous 'at the moment' tacked on at the end. "On my word as the leading man, I promise you I'll make no attempt to take advantage of you, Penelo."

And somehow, she believed him. He'd never used her name before, not when addressing her, and somehow his sudden, unexpected application of it was reassuring.

She stepped fully into the room just as Balthier withdrew from his wardrobe with a large, box-shaped object in his hands. Stepping past her he placed it on his desk and promptly began to fiddle with the buttons and knobs of the front. Curious, Penelo tried to peer around him – she'd never seen such an object before.

"Close that door, will you?" he called without turning. "I've never tested the theory, but I believe this airsickness cure is a lengthy process; I think it best we're not disturbed."

Obediently, Penelo closed the door, and felt only the tiniest tremor of uncertainty in doing so. _It's alright, _she told herself stoutly. _He gave me his word..._

She studiously ignored the fact that he was a pirate, and that by definition his word was as good as the dirt clogging the streets of Rabanastre.

When he finally got the object working, a sweet sound permeated the air – a sound the orphan girl had only heard once before in her whole life. It was a long time ago now, it seemed, though in truth it had only been a few short years.

It was waltz music, similar – though not quite as magnificent – as the tunes that had been played so long ago at princess Ashe's wedding party. Penelo remembered it like it was yesterday. She hadn't been invited of course – she'd been but a commoner, and little more than a child to boot. But from her bed that night, Penelo had heard the music. She recalled humming along, and even getting out of bed at one point to dance around her room and pretend she was there in the castle too. It was a memory of a simpler time, and she kept it with her always.

"Is that..." Penelo murmured, coming over to the desk to see. "... a Music Box?"

"It is. An old one, but even so..."

Penelo stared at the box in wonder. They were exceedingly rare, Music Boxes. Mainly because they were so incredibly expensive. In Dalmasca, no one but the royal family had been able to afford one – even the most well-to-do commoners had only been able to _dream_ of owning such an item. A subtle mixture of engineering and magick, it apparently took a team of supremely experienced craftsmen to make a good one.

"How did _you_ get your hands on a Music Box?" she asked incredulously. She almost immediately wished she hadn't asked – however he'd gotten it, she was all but certain it hadn't been legal.

"I think," Balthier smiled enigmatically. "the less you ask about that, the better, my girl. Now; shall we?"

Penelo eyed the hand he offered in confusion.

"You want me to dance?"

"Precisely."

"Why?" she cried in disbelief. "I can barely _walk _without feeling nauseous. How can you expect me to dance like this?"

"Well as it happens, I discovered the cure for airsickness during one of my earlier jaunts aboard an airship. My father threw a party on board his private ship for me – a _graduation_ party, you could call it." Penelo did not miss how his tone became abruptly bitter over the word 'graduation', but she wisely decided not to question it. "He was well aware of my affliction, but thought the idea of an airship party a stroke of brilliance – and naturally, he was not willing to give it up for something as trivial as airsickness.

"During the course of the evening I was obligated to dance with numerous young ladies. By the end of the affair I discovered that thanks to the hours I'd spent dancing, I'd completely forgotten my sickness. I have never been sick on an airship since."

Penelo was not convinced. Balthier, seeing this dubiousness, continued with a sly grin.

"Now, now, my dear; you still don't trust me? It actually makes sense if you think about it. After all, if you can dance on a moving airship without throwing up, you can most certainly do anything else."

Well, there was no arguing with _that_ logic she supposed. She took his hand, a small frown still marring her features, and allowed him to guide her to the open space.

When they started dancing – a fast paced, jovial sort of dance, exactly the type she imagined would have featured at Ashe's wedding – Penelo all but forgot her mistrust in Balthier. She'd always loved dancing, even as a child. In an age long past, before the war had torn her innocence to shreds, she'd often dreamed about becoming a professional dancer, like the kind that used to perform at Rabanastre's street festivals; the kind that could captivate hearts with but a few simple steps.

But dreams were for children, and Penelo hadn't been a child for a very long time.

Still, her love of the sport had never dimmed. Though she no longer harboured the fantasies of her younger days, there was no denying she still delighted in the art of dance as fervently as ever.

Of course, her enjoyment was no where near enough to make her forget her nausea, and over a period of what felt like several hours (though she doubted it could have been more than an hour, perhaps two in reality) she made several trips to Balthier's en-suite bathroom to bring up the final dregs of her stomach contents.

After the forth or fifth such trip, she stumbled back to Balthier's waiting form with a groan – she had never felt more hopeless of anything in her life.

"Are you – urp – _sure_ this will cure my sickness?" she asked queasily, slipping back into his arms and continuing the dance with a little less enthusiasm than when she'd started.

"I'm certain of it."

"I don't know, Balthier," Penelo groaned. She gazed deeply into his eyes, focusing with all her might on trying to describe the particular shade of green in them, so as to distract herself from being sick again. "I don't think I can keep this up much longer."

"You can," he said simply, spinning her round the floor as ably as any professional she'd ever seen. "I don't believe you've noticed, but the time in-between your bathroom trips has been getting longer."

"Really?" she asked, unconvinced. "It seems to be getting more frequent to me."

A snort of amusement was his only answer.

-X-


	6. Chapter 6

-X-

They danced for a few minutes in silence, each in their own world as their bodies performed the steps on autopilot. Penelo was the first to break the quiet, her words dripping with curiosity as the questions that had been floating around her head for a while finally broke free of their restraints.

"Balthier?" She paused for him to acknowledge her, and continued when he grunted to demonstrate she had his attention. "You're not Dalmascan, are you?"

At first he didn't reply; simply tightened his grip and spun her a little faster. She thought he might not reply at all, when at last he muttered just a single word.

"No."

Not to be discouraged by his obvious reluctance, Penelo pressed on. "And you're not... from Nabudis either, are you?"

"I am not."

Penelo nodded to herself. It was as she suspected – he was from a country far richer than her own. Either Rozarria... or Archadia...

And she knew which one she was more inclined to believe, given his accent.

Deciding to leave her prying at that, Penelo changed the subject – after all, she was only just beginning to like Balthier. It would be a shame for their budding relationship to be smothered by her prejudices. Better to leave at least the illusion of other possibilities.

The time passed uneventfully as they danced their journey away, and now that Balthier had pointed it out to her, Penelo realised that she _had_ in fact gotten a bit better. She still had to make a few abrupt trips to the bathroom every now and then, but the longer she danced, the more stable her stomach became – until at last, after an additional hour and a half, her airsickness wasn't even an unpleasant memory. Swept up in the joy of dancing (which she hadn't felt in much too long), Penelo didn't realise she was cured until a smug Balthier pointed it out.

"If my approximations are correct, I would say you are now cured, my dear," he smirked.

Penelo's eyes widened. She paused and dropped Balthier's hand, stepping back and blinking at him in surprise.

Almost as though by design, the Strahl hit yet another unstable pocket of air and bounced violently through the sky like a panicked Giza Rabbit. It was the worst turbulence they'd had yet, probably caused – if she had to venture a guess – by their increasing proximity to the Jagd Yensa...

But aside from becoming slightly unbalanced, Penelo barely reacted at all. She felt no onset of dizziness, no sudden desperate need to expel the bile and acid from her already abused stomach... Nothing.

Balthier was right. She _was_ cured.

She marched around the room at differing speeds just to be sure; she even jumped up and down, did a cartwheel and then a handstand, but still she felt no need to rush to the bathroom. In her joy she squealed and threw herself at the observing sky pirate, wrapping her arms around his neck and almost knocking him over in her zeal.

"Thank you, Balthier! Thank you so much!" she cried, planting a forceful kiss on his cheek in gratitude.

Balthier – who was, in truth, somewhat surprised by her over-excitement – smirked as she turned red at her own impulsiveness.

"You are quite welcome, sweetheart," he chuckled, crossing his arms and looking down at her complacently.

She thanked him again (several more times, each more energetic than the last ) before running from the room to join the others in the cockpit – they were near the Jagd Yensa after all, which meant it would soon be time to disembark.

Balthier however, remained behind a bit longer.

He touched his cheek where Penelo had unthinkingly kissed him, and gazed after her retreating form with a small ironic smile.

Young Penelo was a fascinating girl – he'd known it the moment he clapped eyes on her. Defiant and vivacious, strong yet kind; she was as unlike most of the women he'd known in his lifetime as it was possible to be. And if there was one thing Balthier would freely admit he had inherited from his father, it was his enjoyment of those things that defied the norms.

"It is as I thought," he mused to himself with a sly grin, leaving his room and heading for the cockpit as well. "she is quite the exquisite dancer."

Because after all – what self-respecting sky pirate did something purely out of the goodness of his heart?

-X-


End file.
